“Let us through,” one of the men cried. “Make way.”
A few on the outskirts of the throng turned to look at them, but there was no way that a pathway large enough for the five of them to get through was going to open up.
“Please!” another of the men cried. “Let us through to see the Master.”
Leah’s father got to his feet, and she quickly joined him. They could see that the man on the litter was seriously stricken. His face was thin, almost gaunt. One arm laid feebly across his chest, the other flopped loosely over the side. As the men carrying him tried to push their way in, he started to lift his head to see what was happening, but he got it no more than an inch or two off the litter before it dropped back again. His eyes closed, and he uttered a low moan.
“I know this man,” David said. “He has the palsy. I had heard that he had been stricken. It started with a severe headache and a burning fever, then he completely lost the use of his limbs.” He began to move forward as he spoke, and Leah fell in beside him. “He is very ill. I am surprised they would bring him out at all.”
The men with the litter had completely circled the throng and found no one willing to make way for them.
“I’m going to help,” David said, starting across the street toward the house. But even as he did so, one of those accompanying the litter turned and pointed. Like almost every other house in the Galilee, Andrew’s house had a set of stone steps on one of the outside walls that led up to the roof. With access to the roof from outside as well as inside the house, visitors did not have to go into the house in order to get to the flat roof, which served as patio and courtyard for many homes.
Moving swiftly, the four men carried the stretcher to the stairway. The steps were narrow, and the two men on each end of the litter had to move shoulder to shoulder to negotiate it, but in a moment they were on top of the house. Seeing that he could be of no help now, David stopped. He and Leah backed up so as to see better what was happening on top of the house.
Once on top, the men moved quickly across the roof, then set the litter down. One of the men bent down and opened a trapdoor.
“They’ll never get that litter through the opening,” David said. “I’ve been in Andrew’s house. The door to the roof is too narrow.”
He was right. The men lifted the litter again and maneuvered around the opening for several moments. They were clearly frustrated. Again they set the litter down. Now all four of them dropped to their knees around the opening. Then to Leah’s and David’s amazement, they heard the dull clunk of tile on tile.
“What are they doing?”
David was gaping, not sure he was seeing right. “They’re removing the tiles to enlarge the opening.”
He grabbed Leah’s hand. “Come on.”
Pulling Leah with him, he ran the last few steps to the house and then went up the stairs. As they stepped onto the roof, the four men were just picking up the litter again, this time holding the ends of the long poles instead of the ropes. To one side they saw a stack of tiles and some loose boards. What had a few minutes before been an opening wide enough to accommodate only one person at a time was now three times its original size. That, of course, didn’t change the width of the stairs going down into the house, and for a moment the men were again perplexed. But they had come this far, and they were not to be denied. One spoke to the others, and they set down the litter again; then each took one of the four ropes and lifted the litter enough that it swung free. Staggering under the weight, they shuffled forward, straddling the opening in the roof.
“They’re going to lower him down,” Leah said.
Without waiting for David, she moved forward to see better. David fell in behind her. As they reached the opening, the men began to lower the litter, hand over hand, down into the house, using the ropes attached to the poles.
Because the sun was at its zenith, its rays streamed directly downward, illuminating the inside of Andrew’s simple home. David instantly began to pick out faces. There was Peter, standing, his face a study in astonishment. Andrew sat at a table, his mouth half open as he looked up at what was happening. Jesus sat beside him. James and John were across the table. They were all staring upwards in complete surprise, but David saw that Jesus was laughing softly. He seemed to be the first to realize what the men were doing.
Hands reached out and caught the stretcher, then lowered it to the floor. Loosing the ropes, the four men went quickly down the stairs into the crowded room.
Now others had followed David and Leah up onto the roof and were crowding around to see better. Then Leah forgot about them as she turned and peered down into the house.
“We are very sorry,” one of the four men was saying to Andrew. “We tried to get in through the door. The people wouldn’t let us through.” He turned and looked at Jesus. “Our friend is sick with the palsy, Master. Can you do anything for him?”
Jesus began to nod slowly. He looked up again, as though measuring the enlarged hole and all that it represented. Then he stood up and moved over to stand beside the litter. The palsied man’s eyes were open. One hand fluttered pitifully as he tried to reach out and implore for help.
“Son,” Jesus said in a firm voice, “thy sins be forgiven thee.”
David heard a gasp at his elbow. He turned. One of the men beside him was staring down in horror. “Blasphemy!” he hissed to his associates. “Who can forgive sins, but God only?”
He spoke in a loud whisper, and with the noise of the crowd David had heard it only because the man stood beside him. But down below, Jesus turned and looked up. Had he heard the man? David couldn’t believe he had. The crowd outside was shouting, trying to learn what was going on. More people were coming onto the roof and running over to try to see what was happening.
The man who had spoken glared down but said nothing more.
Standing beside her father, Leah saw that Jesus’ eyes narrowed slightly. He glanced up once more, but then spoke to those around him. “Why reason you thus in your hearts?” he said. “Which is easier? To say to this man with the palsy that his sins are forgiven, or to tell him to arise and take up his bed and walk?”
David looked at his daughter as the crowd began to whisper to each other. David said nothing, but the thought that flashed into his mind was this: To actually forgive a man’s sins was something only God could do. That was true. But anyone could say, “Your sins are forgiven.” Who was to say whether they were or were not? But to tell a crippled man to arise? In one instant, those watching would know whether something had happened or not.
Before he could finish that line of thinking, Jesus spoke again. “But so that all of you may know that the Son of Man has been given power on this earth to forgive sins—” He turned and looked down at the paralyzed man who lay at his feet. “I say unto you, Arise! Take up your bed. Go your way. Return to your own house.”
Though David was aware of the noise of the throng below them on the street, here on the roof and down in the house no one spoke. No one moved. It was almost as if no one even breathed. Every eye stared at the gaunt figure on the makeshift litter. For what seemed like a full minute (though it probably was only a moment or two), it was as if everything had been frozen in place.
Then a woman gasped. A great cry exploded from those close enough to see. The man on the litter reached out his hands and grasped the two poles firmly. In one swift move he sat up.
“Praise be!” a woman exclaimed. Those nearest the man fell back, gaping at what they were seeing. One of the four men who had carried his companion to this place dropped to his knees, reaching out to steady the man. He waved him off. And in one more quick jerk, the man was on his feet.
David felt Leah’s fingers dig into his arm, but he could not take his eyes off the scene below. The man who just moments before could barely lift his head from off the bed stood before Jesus. His eyes were wide. Slowly he reached down and touched his legs, rubbing them back and forth, not in pain but in wonder.
H
e looked at Jesus, who smiled at him, then nodded his encouragement. The man dropped to his knees and folded up the bed. “Thank you, Lord,” he said as he straightened again. He turned to his companions. “Let’s go home.”
As they started for the door, a roar went up. David grabbed Leah’s hand and moved swiftly over to the edge of the roof above the front door of the house. As they looked down, they saw the crowd finally begin to fall back. In a moment the man with his bed stepped outside. He blinked at the brightness of the light; then, with a cry of exultation, he lifted the poles and the rolled-up litter high above his head and shook them triumphantly to the crowd.
For several seconds Leah did not move. It was as if her heart had stopped once again. Then she pulled away from her father’s grasp. “I’m going to get Simeon and Ephraim here even if I have to drag them,” she said. She spun away and ran down the stairs that she and her father had climbed just minutes before.
Chapter Notes
The word that is translated as palsy in the King James Version of the Bible is the Greek paralouomai (par-a-LOO-oh-mai), which means to be paralytic or paralyzed (see Hastings, p. 599; Fallows 3:1282). It is used several times in the New Testament and may refer to different types of illnesses or debilitations caused by disease or injury to the brain or spinal cord. Hastings supposes this particular case might have been something similar to spinal meningitis.
Chapter 18
Men willingly believe what they wish.
—Julius Caesar, De Bello Gallico, iii.18
I
18 May, a.d. 30
“You are so stubborn, Simeon.”
“Leah, look.” He stopped, searching for the right words.
“Simeon!” she cried. “Listen to me! I saw a paralytic raised from his bed. I saw a leper cleansed in one instant. Why won’t you believe me? This isn’t hearsay. I saw this with my own eyes.”
Ephraim broke in. “Hesitate all you want, Simeon,” he said, “but as for me, I’m going to get Rachel. What Leah has just told us is—well, it’s incredible. If it were anyone but Leah, I wouldn’t believe it. I have to see this for myself.” He looked at his sister. “Rachel and I didn’t say much the other day, but except for what Jesus said about the Romans, we liked what he taught. It was so reasonable.” He glanced quickly at Simeon. “And it felt right.” Then back to Leah he said, “We’ll have to ask someone to watch Esther and Boaz. Where will we find him?”
“They were at Andrew’s house when I left. If they’re not there, just look for the crowds. There are hundreds of people following after him now.”
He nodded, shot Simeon one more disbelieving look, and went out the door. Leah turned back to the brother who was next to her in age.
“Tell me again,” he said, forestalling what he knew was coming. “You said when you first saw the man on the stretcher he was across the street from you. Are you sure he was paralyzed?”
“No, I’m not absolutely sure, Simeon,” she retorted. “I was a full twenty feet away. It would be easy to make a mistake at twenty feet.”
“Sorry, I was just—”
“And when Papa and I were on the roof looking down into the house, we were at least five or six feet away. Maybe we just thought the man got to his feet and rolled up his bed and carried it outside.”
“All right, Leah,” he said, regretting his mistake.
“No, Simeon,” she said hotly. “How can you sit there and try to explain away what I saw? Maybe it was just globs of dirt on that leper’s hands and face, which I mistook for sores. And somehow, while a hundred of us were all watching, Jesus magically rubbed the dirt off his face and hands without any of us seeing it. I should have thought of that. He’s just a magician working clever tricks. I’m so glad you helped me understand.”
He got to his feet and took her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “All right, I’m sorry. I do believe you.”
“Then why won’t you come?” she pleaded. “Please, Simeon. Come and see.”
He was surprised at the fire in her. He had never seen her like this. Like their father, Leah was always the one for moderation. She was the peacemaker in the family. But now she was coming after him like an angry bull. And then a thought came, and he had his answer.
“Leah, who is my favorite prophet?”
She stopped in the middle of another attempt to change his mind. “What?”
“Remember when we used to play at being the kings and queens and prophets when we were children? Who was always my favorite?”
She thought for a moment, remembering, and a smile came without her being aware of it. As children she and Simeon had spent many hours reenacting the scriptural stories, taking on the roles of their favorite people. Leah had always chosen to be one of two women—Queen Esther, who saved her people from annihilation by the Persian king, or the prophetess Deborah, her mother’s namesake. Deborah had raised an army and overthrown the hosts of Sisera, chief captain of the king of Hazor. Simeon, on the other hand, often picked a hero who was famous for his success in battle—Joshua, King David, Jonathan. But the one he chose most frequently was not a general at all, but a prophet. “Elisha,” she said finally.
“Yes. Do you remember why?”
She started to shake her head, then stopped. “Because he had such faith.”
“Yes.” Now he leaned forward. “And how do we know he had strong faith?”
“Because of all the—” She stopped, her eyes widening.
“Go ahead,” he urged, pleased that she had seen it.
“Because of all the miracles he worked.”
“Exactly. After the mantle of Elijah fell on Elisha, Elisha worked one miracle after another. He smote the waters of the Jordan, and they parted for him. He cast salt into the bitter spring at Jericho—salt, of all things!—and turned the waters sweet as honey. He multiplied a cruse of oil for a widow, caused an ax to float on water, raised a young man from the dead.”
He stopped and leaned forward, emphasizing his most telling point. “He cured Naaman the Syrian of leprosy.”
Leah was on the defensive now, seeing exactly where Simeon was going with this. “Not by touching him!” she said, but it came out lamely.
“No, he had him wash seven times in the Jordan, but Naaman was cured.” Now he looked triumphant. “There is no question but what Elisha was one of the greatest of the prophets.” There was a long pause. “But was he the Messiah? No. So maybe this Jesus is a great prophet and—”
She leaped on that. “Maybe?” she cried. “Are you trying to tell me that a madman or an imposter could do what he is doing?”
“All right, let’s say that Jesus is a prophet. If what you say is true—” He stopped at her sharp look. “I’m sorry. Knowing that what you say is true, then I’d have to agree that he is a great prophet. But that doesn’t make him the Messiah, Leah. That’s what bothers me. You and Papa are so sure he is the Promised One, but he doesn’t fit what the prophets have told us about the Messiah. I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe he is the one we have been waiting for.”
“You mean you won’t believe,” she said sadly.
He threw up his hands. “Can’t? Won’t? What’s the difference? Don’t try to trap me with words, Leah.”
Gentle of nature or not, Leah had not grown up with two older brothers without learning how to stand her ground. “Jesus works miracles as easily as Simon Peter and Andrew pull fish from the sea, Simeon,” she said quietly. “If you knew it was an Elisha who had come among us, would you still refuse to go hear him?”
She had him, and they both knew it. He looked away. “I’m right in the middle of tallying the books. When I finish I’ll come and see what is happening.”
Suddenly her face was filled with wonder. She stepped back, her eyes wide. “You’re afraid to come.”
“Don’t be foolish.”
“No,” she said, slowly nodding now. “That’s it, isn’t it? If you come and listen to him and see the things he does, you just might be convinced that
he is all that Papa and I say he is.”
“I said I’ll come in a little while,” he retorted, irked now.
“Be careful, Simeon,” she said softly. “If you come, you may have no choice but to believe. And then what will you do? You might even have to change the way you feel.”
II
Leah found her father not far from where she had left him. Along with the rest of the crowd, he was again waiting in the street. Jesus was inside one of the homes. She reported quickly, and with obvious disappointment, about her conversation with Simeon.
Her father didn’t seem too surprised. “He has to make his own choices, Leah. There’s nothing we can do but invite him.”
“But why is he being this way? Ephraim believed me.” She looked around. “In fact, he said he was going to get Rachel and come. You’ve not seen them?”
“No.” His eyes were wistful now. “I so wish your mother was here. Why did she have to be gone at this time of all times?”
“I don’t know,” Leah answered, “but I will tell her everything, Papa. I can hardly wait.”
“She may be like Simeon, Leah.” And then he remembered Deborah’s words before they had gone to hear Jesus teach on the hillside a few days before. “Don’t get your hopes too high.”
Before she could answer, someone called out. They both turned to see Ephraim and Rachel coming toward them at a swift walk.
“Over here.” Leah waved, then looked at her father, very pleased. “I was hoping Rachel would come. She’ll believe all of this.”
David only nodded, not as confident as his daughter.
As they came up, David reached out and shook Ephraim’s hand; then he gave Rachel a hug. “Where are Esther and Boaz?” he asked.
“With my mother,” Rachel answered. “We tried to leave them with a neighbor, but Esther wouldn’t hear of it, even though she knows them well. That’s what took us so long.”
“I’m so glad you’ve come.”